


Place a Spy

by nostalgic_breton_girl



Category: Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: Gen, House Telvanni (Elder Scrolls), Mages Guild, Thieves Guild
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28880817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgic_breton_girl/pseuds/nostalgic_breton_girl
Summary: Tensions between the Mages' Guild and House Telvanni have been rising since the latter sent a spy to the former. Julianne Traven comes to Morrowind from Cyrodiil to sort things out, and enlists the help of a certain Thieves' Guild member.
Kudos: 3





	Place a Spy

**Author's Note:**

> Lunette is my Nerevarine. Julianne is later the Arch-Mage of the Mages' Guild in Cyrodiil, but here is a mere Councillor.

‘Oh, by the way –’

Phane Rielle hardly wanted to say it, shrugged.

‘There’s a visitor to the Mages’ Guild here. Julianne Traven. You’ll probably meet her at some point, Anyway, she’s pretty rich and she’s got some pretty nice things and I’ve been told to tell you that you must not under any circumstances steal  _ any _ of them.’

‘She’s protected?’

‘She’s a  _ Footpad _ .’

Julianne Traven, he explained, Master-Wizard, Councillor of the Mages’ Guild, was also a Footpad in the Thieves’ Guild down in Cyrodiil. Julianne Traven – comfortably well-off, owner of some eminently pilferable belongings – was one of  _ them _ . Untouchable. Unbelievable. Inconceivable! Not that – and Phane was very eager to stress it, took a handful of his brocade shirt (of dubious origin, he said proudly) –  _ not _ that clothes necessarily belie one’s status. Make the man. Or the woman. But the woman was  _ rich _ . City elite – and  _ damn _ them!

The woman, as Lunette pressed him to find out, had contributed to some important City business a few years back, and over the course of it awarded Thieves’ Guild membership by – supposedly – the Grey Fox himself. Not everyone in the Guild approved – not all of them actually knew, though – anyway the long and short of it was that she might run into City elite later, and couldn’t stick a single finger in her pocket. 

Julianne Traven – as Lunette found out later, having met her, that evening, in the Guild-hall – was carrying rather few valuables than implied; was rather more charming than expected; and had even in that rich City tone the slightest trace of a West Weald accent. – Was it West Weald? –

And no sooner had Lunette greeted the woman, and received her greeting, than did she start a little. It was a long time since she had last heard the sounds of home – true home – 

‘You’re from the West Weald?’

‘From Anvil. – Is it the accent? – Really? – I didn’t think I still had it. – You’re from… no, let me guess… you must be from Kvatch.’

Certainly Julianne did a fine job of casual conversation, of trying not to betray her status: all the confidence of a Cyrodiil with the light charming touch of a Breton. Lunette had not wanted to get carried away, had not wanted to lose whatever scorn she had for this most  _ unusual _ of Footpads: but the conversation flowed easily, too easily; Julianne’s Anvil tones became a little more pronounced, even as Lunette’s Kvatch ones did likewise. – They discussed the most trivial things, the weather, the West Weald countryside, things that scarcely left the generic; and yet, and yet Lunette felt as if she had returned, felt, for that evening, as if she was back in Cyrodiil – 

So long now, since she’d heard a Western accent – 

‘What brings you to Balmora?’

‘Oh, that?’ Julianne laughed. ‘Council business. Cooling relations with House Telvanni. – Things have got so tense I was sent up here. – Not sure what I can do, really: I hardly know the place, and I doubt the Telvanni big-wigs are going to take me seriously. – Do they wear  _ wigs _ , up here? – Anyway, I’ve been sent to talk to them, come up with –’

She broke off: and there was some curiosity in the way she beheld Lunette, as if newly. 

‘You’re new here, aren’t you? – To the Mages’ Guild, I mean.’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Then perhaps you might be of some use… How well do the Telvanni know you? – They don’t live near Balmora, on the whole, do they?’

‘I don’t believe I have yet met a member.’

‘Do you have the time to be a bit of a spy?’

‘A spy?’

The plan was unformed, left Julianne in bits and half-thoughts: but, with Lunette contributing, and Julianne deftly picking up these pieces, it began to take shape. Lunette would be a spy – would with any luck not be recognised by any Telvanni wizard; would be a spy within the House – no matter than she was in Hlaalu, newly – and find out what the sentiment was, what the Mages’ Guild might use against them – or for them; be a spy, that Julianne’s job might be exponentially easier, indeed possible. And Julianne would allow her compensation for it – would work with her – 

‘You shall be better than I, at sneaking around,’ said she: ‘after all, you’re a member of the Thieves’ Guild, aren’t you?’

‘You know that?’

‘You have a shadowmark on your wrist. That’s what it is, isn’t it? – I know people back in Cyrodiil who –’

‘You’re in the Thieves’ Guild, too,’ said Lunette: and with far less disapproval, far less spite than she might have used, had she said such a thing at the top of their conversation.

‘News gets round, doesn’t it.’ Julianne grinned. ‘Yes, I am,’ and her voice was more West Weald than it had ever been, and Lunette – far from expectations – basked in it: an elongated vowel, a dropped consonant, the Thieves’ Guild, and there was Kvatch, upon the crest of her imagination: clung to the voice of a woman she had thought she would hate, as the last remnant of that thing she had loved – by the gods, she had loved!


End file.
